


Bruised Pride

by Masterless



Category: wtfock
Genre: After the last clip, Hurt, M/M, TW: Blood, Tw: mentioned homophobia, but also support, this is me processing what happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-01-31 13:13:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21446761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masterless/pseuds/Masterless
Summary: The sound of them walking away faded, but the pain in Sander’s face, stomach, shoulders, and back just got worse. His whole body throbbed, painfully raw and exposed, the sound of his own breathing filling his ears.
Relationships: Robbe/Sander
Comments: 2
Kudos: 205
Collections: Skam Belgium (Wtfock) ▶ Sander Driesen / Robbe Ijzermans





	Bruised Pride

The sound of them walking away faded, but the pain in Sander’s face, stomach, shoulders, and back just got worse. His whole body throbbed, painfully raw and exposed, the sound of his own breathing filling his ears. It hurt to breathe out, his stomach muscles seizing every time he took air in and forced it out. When he knew they were gone, he uncurled, even though it hurt like hell, and propped himself up on one arm, tasting blood. The ticking of a spinning bike wheel filtered into his head, and more sounds soon followed. The distant music from the club, the far away cars, water dripping somewhere close. A faint but persistent wheeze.

Robbe.

“Robbe?” Sander called.

No answer.

“Robbe?” he asked again.

Nothing.

Sander turned to where he thought Robbe was, seeing his brown jacket through a thick haze. One of his eyelids was painfully swollen, almost shut. He managed to get himself onto his knees and crawl a few feet before having to stop. He still wasn’t at Robbe, but he could hear the wheeze clearer now. It was the brown haired boy, his brown haired boy. When he made the last few feet to Robbe, he gently rolled the boy into his back, cradling his head. His eyes were closed, his mouth slightly open. There was blood on his face, coming from his mouth and his nose and a cut above his left eye. He didn’t seem to have any broken bones.

“Robbe?” Sander said. “Please, wake up.” He bent his head down, feeling tears come to his eyes. “Please, Robbe.”

He didn’t know how long he’d been holding Robbe when he felt soft fingers on his arm.

“Sander…?”

When he looked up, he found warm brown eyes staring back at him, a furrowed brow. 

“Robbe.” He rested their foreheads together. “Fock.”

“Sander,” Robbe whispered. “I want to go home.”

Sander nodded. “Yours is closer.”

Robbe made a noise, a held in sob, and Sander wrapped painful arms around his waist, pulling him up to sit, holding him gently. He felt the other boy shake, felt hot tears against his neck. Sander held him as he cried, and Robbe wrapped his arms around him as he cried, too. They stayed like that for a while, until their tears stopped flowing and their breaths evened out.

“Do you think you can stand?” Sander asked.

Without answering, Robbe shifted in his position and started to stand, leaning heavily on Sander as he rose with him. Robbe got about halfway up and had to stop, holding his stomach with a pained groan.

“There’s no way we’re biking back,” Sander sighed, leaning against the wall, holding Robbe close.

“I…” Robbe started. “Senne has a car, I could call.”

Sander nodded. “We can’t walk back.”

Robbe fished his phone out from his pocket, his movements slow and stiff. When he found the right number, he held the phone to his ear, his other cheek pressed to Sander’s chest.

“Hi, Senne,” Robbe said when he picked up. “No, I was wondering if you could come pick me and Sander up?” There was a pause. “No, we can’t bike.” Another. “Yeah, we were out drinking, but it’s…” A sigh. “Thank you.”

After telling Senne their location, he hung up and shifted his weight fully onto Sander.

“How long will it take for him to get us?” Sander asked.

Robbe grunted his answer. 

*

It didn’t take long for Senne to find them.

“Jesus,” he said, stepping out of his car. “What happened?”

“We got jumped,” Sander said, gently pushing Robbe off him so they could walk to the car.

“Why?” Senne asked, taking one of Robbe’s arms and wrapping it around his own shoulder. “If you guys weren’t doing anything, why would they jump you?”

Sander was quiet for a moment, looking down at Robbe.

“They saw us,” Robbe said, pausing, his voice nearly choked in his throat. “They saw us kissing.”

Senne nodded. “And they attacked you?”

“Yeah.”

Senne sighed and shook his head. “What a bunch of assholes.”

They’d gotten to his car, the back door already open. Sander got in first, then helped to maneuver Robbe inside. Robbe seemed to have taken the brunt of the beating. Senne started to drive them home, his eyes flicking to their reflection in his rear view mirror. He was silent the whole way back, but Sander could tell that it was a worried silence, not a hateful one.

*

Zoë was waiting by the front of the apartment building when they got back. She helped them in, opening the apartment door when they got to it. They walked slowly to the kitchen, waiting down when they could. Robbe leaned over and rested his head on the table, letting out a tired sigh. Zoë grabbed the first aid kit and started attending to Sander’s face.

“No, help him first,” he said, waving vaguely to Robbe.

“Your face is worse,” she answered, blotting his eyebrow. “You might both need to go to the hospital.”

“Hospital?” Milan asked, walking in. He froze when he saw Robbe and Sander. “Oh, no.” 

He knelt by Robbe’s side, gently helping him to sit back. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Milan mumbled. “Tell me what happened.”

“They got jumped,” Senne answered. “For kissing each other.”

Milan sighed. “When I told you about people willing to get beaten so they could be themselves, it wasn’t so you’d go out and get beaten yourself.”

Robbe managed a half smile before he started crying again. Milan wrapped an arm around him, hushing him kindly.

*

Sander found himself in bed, Robbe’s soft duvet pulled to his chin.

“I’m sorry,” Robbe said.

“Why?” Sander asked.

“It’s my fault.” He sniffled. “I…”

“No, it’s not.” Sander took his hand under the covers. “It’s not your fault.”

“I was the one that… that wanted to go out. I was the one who was all over you, I-“

“I wanted to go out, too.” Sander squeezed his hand. “I wanted to kiss you, to hold you, too.”

Robbe let out a breath. 

“Robbe?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”


End file.
